


Saturday

by cmdf



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 22:39:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmdf/pseuds/cmdf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It’s the first Saturday in two months Liam and Louis have together: a full day set aside in which they can enjoy each other completely, not tinkering with floor-plans, or dialing in conference calls with directors. They savor these Saturdays, especially after the wedding, when Liam’s career took off, and Louis’ keeps propelling upward. Ah, but they are married now, and these days of communal-solitude are few and far between the private jets and board meetings. Liam’s been working for a client with his firm in Dubai for 8 months, and Louis can hardly ignore the obligations weighted in Gala invitations in cities around the world.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saturday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [la_faerie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_faerie/gifts).



> This is (essentially) an AU character study of married Liam and Louis. It all started when I began to imagine what Lilo would do together on a lazy Saturday with the wonderful [Caitlin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/la_faerie/profile). Thank her for being responsible for my deep desire to write about "the marrieds." 
> 
> I'd also like to thank [Melissa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mermaidparades/profile), [K8ie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bisousniall/profile), and Liri for their wonderful beta'ing. Another special thank you to everyone who encouraged me to finish this.
> 
> Disclaimer: this was not Brit-Picked. Thank you for reading. Enjoy!

It’s Saturday.

Not just any Saturday: but a _Saturday_. A Saturday in which, finally, the graces of the world outside of this sun-stained bedroom in North London have awarded time for two kindred spirits to spend together. 

As the morning light bleeds through sheer summer curtains, Louis feels the other side of the mattress dip, and he opens his eyes to see Liam sitting up on the edge of the bed.

“Li,” he whines, reaching for Liam’s forearm and pulling him back to lay on top of his bare chest. “Why are you up so early?”

“It’s half-eight. That’s hardly early.”

“But it’s _Saturday_ ,” he strokes the back of his hand across Liam’s cheek. Liam leans into the touch and presses a light kiss onto the gold band wrapped around his finger.

It’s the first Saturday in two months Liam and Louis have together: a full day set aside in which they can enjoy each other completely, not tinkering with floor-plans, or dialing in conference calls with directors. They savor these Saturdays, especially after the wedding, when Liam’s career took off, and Louis’ keeps propelling upward. Ah, but they are married now, and these days of communal-solitude are few and far between the private jets and board meetings. Liam’s been working for a client with his firm in Dubai for 8 months, and Louis can hardly ignore the obligations weighted in Gala invitations in cities around the world.

“Exactly, it’s the first Saturday in two months I get to spend with you and I’d hate to sleep it all away.”

Liam sits up to stand, but Louis grabs a fist full of jogger, attempting to pull him back to the mattress.

“Lou,” he says sternly, peering over his shoulder.

“If you insist on getting up, you best make yourself useful. Bring me breakfast.”

Louis shrugs his way up and out of the sheets to rest against the headboard with his arms folded across his chest. Liam rolls his eyes on an exaggerated sigh and catches himself before tripping over one of Louis’ slippers on the floor. He considers arguing with Louis for the sake of getting a rise out of him; he wants Louis to wake up and not waste a single minute, wants to spend every possible moment with him. He never imagined both of their lives would ever get this hectic, especially after their wedding. Perhaps it was for the best, as Liam thought he could never shake those honeymoon jitters waking up next to Louis.

Liam makes his way to the kitchen, opening up the cupboards to pull out plates and the toaster.

When breakfast is ready, he lines up a tray with two cups of tea, almost-but-thankfully-not charred toaster waffles with butter, scrambled eggs, and a bowl of fresh berries to walk back into the bedroom.

“About time-- I’m starved,” Louis pats his stomach, watching Liam carefully toe his way to the bed. The cups keep rattling every few steps, and he’s got his brows knitted so tightly, like he’s using teacup telepathy to keep the contents within them on the tray.

“Now, be careful,” Liam sets the cups of tea on a nightstand, “don’t get any crumbs on the sheets. I don’t want any filth on our bed.”

Liam places the tray on Louis’ lap and lays in the bed beside him. He watches Louis sip his tea and talk about how loudly Liam was snoring in his ear last night, then starts to ramble on about an idea for an editorial he had late last night with half a waffle waving around in his hand. Louis drops a couple berries into Liam’s mouth, followed by a kiss, before reaching over to grab his phone.

“Babe,” Liam whines, “put your phone away. You know the rules.”

“Just-- it’s just-- Vivienne--”

“No-- I know how you are! Once you get going, you’re impossible. I don’t care if it’s the bloody Prime Minister. I want you to please, please put the phone down and spend your day with me.”

Louis hesitates for a moment, looking like a child caught with a fistful of sweets before tea, puts his phone down and thanks Liam for bringing him breakfast with a thousand kisses. Liam laughs when Louis reaches down to tickle the back of his knee, but then suddenly finds himself face down on the floor next to Louis’ slippers. He's been shoved off the bed, and now Louis’ gone off to run into the shower first. 

He rolls onto the rug, Louis’ red leather slipper digging into his rib. Liam yelps and pulls the slipper from his side, tosses it in the direction of the wardrobe, and yells, “what’d I tell you about your slippers?” The fine threads bristle against his shoulder, and he winces from the sweet burn. Down here, he can see a stream of dust floating upwards from the lush paisley in the sunlight, and he makes a note to beat the rugs out next week while the sun is out. Liam darts up to follow, stepping out of his joggers in the doorway, and gets in the shower anyway.

Liam rips open the curtain to the shower, startling Louis into the corner of the bath. Louis turns to see Liam now stepping in behind him, and accidentally squirts the bottle of bath gel all over his face.

“Shit!” Louis drops the bottle to shuffle Liam under the spray, “I’m so sorry babe, oh-- don’t rub it in your eyes.”

“I do so much for you, and this is how you treat me?”

"You can’t guilt me. I treat you like a king, darling," and Liam scoffs at that, but Louis takes the liberty to lather up a flannel and wash him up. He lightens his brush behind Liam’s knee, knowing how ticklish he is is there, and Liam almost topples over him. Louis stands under the shower head, helping Louis brush off the lathered suds off his shoulders.

When he’s done rinsing off, Liam goes to step out of the shower, but Louis holds onto his shoulder and says, “I’m not done.”

He makes Liam wait in the shower with him as he cleans himself, tells Liam to kiss him while the ginger-honey conditioner sets in his hair.

They’re in ‘til the water runs cold. Louis turns the knobs off and shuffles them out of the shower. Liam goes to dry himself, but Louis snatches it from his hand, kneels on the tile dripping wet, and begins to pat the beads of water off his legs.

“Knees apart, your majesty,” he smiles, looks up at Liam who can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

Typical Louis.

“Babe, now the tile’s all wet.”

Louis stands to dry himself when Liam announces he's going to shave, but Louis strokes the growth on the sides of his face, wrinkles his brow and says, "No you aren't."

"Yes, I am," he protests. 

"Fine," Louis pouts, "deny me from small pleasures. I can do much worse," and he turns out of the bathroom.

"Ooh, I'm so scared!" Liam laughs. 

"You should fear me," Louis yells from the room, "Especially when you let me put your dick in my mouth."

Liam runs out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, watches Louis struggle to pull on a shirt and tells him,"maybe we should mix things up then."

"Are you offering to suck my cock right now?" 

Liam tuts, "But we're going to the markets now." He takes one look at Louis’ face and folds, “an offer, a promise: there isn’t much of a difference when you’re a king.”

It’s quarter past ten when they finally leave the flat. Louis goes running down the front steps, then waits for Liam to finish locking the door. He threads their fingers together when they push through the gate and tightens his grip on the way to the tube station.

They spend the ride in silence, Liam resting his head on Louis shoulder. Louis keeps drawing little circles over their knees. Liam stares at the gold watch wrapped around Louis’ wrist, mesmerized by the shine of the bright emeralds dancing along the face. He thinks he’s a fool for wearing something so immaculate on the tube, but he can’t imagine a day without Louis wearing his gold watch.

Louis continues to draw circles and looks up at a girl in a pink tutu swinging her legs in the seat across from them. The girl next to her, perhaps her older sister, leans down to whisper in her ear, and the little girl’s legs stop. She crosses her arms and pouts up at her sister, then looks over at Louis. He gives her a little wink, and she giggles, wriggling into her seat, and starts kicking her legs again.

He reaches for his phone, considers calling up his mum to see how his family’s doing, if she’s heard from his sisters, but he pushes the thought aside. He pats his pocket, takes Liam’s hand into his, and twists the ring around Liam’s finger until the car stops at their destination. Louis gives a shy wave to the little girl on his way out and squeezes Liam’s hand a little tighter.

“I want to buy some flowers,” Louis says as they march up the steps to the markets.

“But you’re leaving Monday.”

“Exactly. And when you come home every night next week, you’ll change the water and think of me.”

“As if I could stop thinking about you when you’re gone.”

“You’re such a fucking sap,” he gives Liam’s shoulder a little shove. Liam looks hurt for a second, but Louis ducks in for a quick kiss, and murmurs, “I think about you all the time, too.”

It makes Liam blush, cheeks burning like that lightheaded rush and thrill wrapped around the exact moment you find out your high school crush likes you back. Most days he can’t believe it: Louis likes him back. Not just likes him, he _loves_ Liam. He never feels doubt, but knowing Louis loves him back as much as he does makes his heart swell with pride. 

They ascend from the Underground, and the day is brighter than Liam remembers it being outside of their house. He shields his eyes and glares over at Louis who is already pinching a pair of aviators around his ears.

“Shit.”

“There, there,” Louis pats his back, “You should know better. Let’s find you a new pair for the day.”

“What a waste, an absolute waste. I have at least five at home.”

“Ah, that’s why sunnies sell so well. Because of people like you,” Louis pulls him over to a stall with a selection of frames. He picks up a pair of obnoxiously lime-green, bug-eyed frames and slides them on Liam’s nose.

“What are you doing?”

“Liam, darling,” Louis gasps, pursing his lips behind a fist.

“You can’t be serious.”

“As serious as a Tom Ford tuxedo, babe.” He’s stifling a giggle, “you look f--fabulous. Absolutely stunning.”

Liam knows he’s bluffing, but he reaches into his pocket for a fiver to pay for them. He is stopped when Louis snatches the glasses from his face and pulls him away from the table.

“Don’t be that person.”

“You said I looked fabulous, and, you know, you’re like the most important person in the world in regards to what looks good.”

“I was being _facetious_.”

“You were being a tit.”

“Ooh, that hurts.”

They stroll through the markets, inspecting vintage candelabras and tossing coins for the occasional street performer. Louis feeds Liam some fresh strawberries, dabs a napkin on the corners of his mouth, and pulls him into a quick kiss. They dash in and out of stalls, draping each other in scarves then filling up bags of Haribo.

“Come, come,” Louis pulls Liam around a fruit stand, mouth watering over slices of nectarines, “The flowers are over here.”

Even before Liam knew he was in love with Louis, Louis always wanted to be surrounded by fresh cut flowers. He told Liam it was the easiest way to brighten your mornings or days in the office, as the seasons sprout new flora and colors evolve. Louis has arrangements sent to his desk every Tuesday, regardless if he is in town or not, and he always calls ahead to make sure a bouquet is waiting in Liam’s room in Dubai. “ _Things change, but you’ll always think of me_ ,” he says when Liam calls to thank him. And Liam does.

“Oh, the gerbers are out! Aren’t they gorgeous?” Louis fawns, pointing to the long-stemmed daisies.

“They all are, babe. Which ones do you want?”

Louis takes a deep breath, warming to the sweet floral notes around them, “I want all of them, but I don’t think your arms can carry that many.”

“Just one arrangement for today. For the bedroom.”

“But the kitchen will look so dull--”

“I’ll survive without them. You can come back to see Carl next week and have him line the walls in roses for all I care. It’s a pain in the arse for me even changing the water out of one vase.”

“Okay then,” Louis bends over to pull his favored arrangement from the bucket. He turns it in his hand and frowns, “Hmm. It’s so small.”

“Louis, it’s the largest they have!”

“But I want to fill out the Murano for the bedroom table.”

Liam draws out a defeated sigh and gestures for him to pick up an accompanying bouquet. Liam hands over the bills to pay for their orange and yellow daisies before making their way to lunch. It was foolish to buy their flowers so early in the day, Liam thinks, but he catches Louis brushing his cheeks against the petals every so often.

When they finish a quiet lunch under the sun, they walk with their hands clasped together to the park.

“What are you thinking about?” Liam shuffles his foot along the grass beneath the bench, then settles in with his head on Louis’ shoulder. He feels Louis’ arm reach around to pull him in closer, then the heavy weight of Louis’ lips kissing into the crown of his head.

“I’m thinking about our house-- you know, that one you’ve had planned out, collecting dust in the office. I’m thinking about that. Us. Living in it, like an endless Saturday. It’ll be our little estate in the countryside with modest bedrooms and massive bathrooms. It’ll always smell like cedar, because I know you-- you despise varnish. The floors will be covered with Persian rugs from the estate auctions I drag you to, others along the way from business trips. We’ll host loud barbecues in the garden in the summers, and fuck each other in front of the fire in the winters.

“And our Christmas room will be filled with fresh flowers eleven months out of the year, but as soon as it turns December, it’ll shine like the top of the Chrysler-- right? Chrysler? That one in New York-- building. And the presents-- just stacked with beautifully wrapped boxes and gaudy bows. And--”

He stops himself and gives Liam a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. Liam sits up and looks at Louis who’s suddenly very interested in the dandelion by his foot. He kicks at it a few times, then plucks it from the ground to twist it in circles between his fingers.

“Go on,” Liam coaxes. “‘And’ what? What were you going to say.”

“I--” he hesitates, and he knows he can’t wriggle his way out of it. He blows at the dandelion then drops it back into the grass. He wishes he never began to say anything at all. He doesn’t like not telling Liam everything, but this time it’s serious. He’s a little clammy, because when thoughts manifest their way into conversation, it feels a lot more serious. But the worst part is the moment you catch yourself before it slips out: you’ve got your tongue rolling back into your throat, and you’re choking on marbles. There’s a little line of sweat beading on the back of your neck, and your eyes feel a little dry. It’s miserable, and when the listening party catches the start, you’ve crossed that point of no return.

“Lou...”

“I started thinking about us... on Christmas morning. And we’d be up at an ungodly hour, because our girl will have--”

Liam grabs his arm, “What?”

“Shit, Li, I shouldn’t have said anything, I’ve scared you-- I know we haven’t really talked about this much lately but--”

“No, no, keep going. What is she doing Christmas morning?”

Louis takes a second to lick his lips at how Liam’s eyes widen with interest. His heart picks up and he nods before starting again,

“She’ll have woken us up, jumping on our bed, screaming about her presents around the tree. And I’ll be hung over, but papa can’t explain to her why he and daddy look dead to the world because we only went down two hours ago after wrapping up the last of the gifts over a bottle of champagne with a birthday sex chaser. But she’ll tear through half her gifts before you pour the milk in my tea, and I’ll be sore, but it’ll be the happiest morning of the year. Because we’ll be together. In our house, with our little girl, and I won’t have to think about god awful Italian leather belts, and deciding on the relevance or irrelevance of bolo ties.”

“How often do you think about it?”

“In my _expert_ opinion, if you’re not Jack White or Johnny Cash, you shouldn’t bother with a bolo tie. But these things change, maybe Miuccia can change my mind.”

Liam pinches the shy bit of skin at his waist, and Louis yelps, “What’d you do that for?”

“You complete idiot, I didn’t actually care to know what _you really think_ about bolo ties. I was asking how often you think about--” and Liam feels it too, that built-up rush of anxious excitement, “Us. Raising a family.”

“I didn’t think about it as much when we first got married, because we were so busy. We still are, and we’ve worked it out. I was so scared to marry you, Li. So scared you were going to get fed up with me, especially when you saw how I awful I could get, but after these years with you, there’s this feeling inside of me that just knows the longer we stay together, the less I know you’ll want to leave me. I suppose normal people call it trust, but god damn it, I think about you all the fucking time, and I used to get so sick thinking things wouldn’t work out, but, you manage-- we manage-- to make each day feel more important than the last. And I’ve reached the point in my life where I know... I just know... we could... commit to starting a family. If you’d like that.”

A moment of silence slips between them. It’s a few short breaths of the two of them holding onto each other’s hands a little tighter, and Liam’s watching a young boy dart after the line of his plunging kite before it lands in a nearby tree, and Louis is waiting for Liam to say something. He doesn’t rush him, because he knows Liam’s taking it all in. 

Liam eases into a smile, “I couldn’t imagine our lives going any other way. Of course I’d love to, with you. It’s always with you, and it will only be you. And,” he takes a deep breath, “I’m glad you told me. You know, I’ve thought about it, too. I just didn’t know when to bring it up.”

“You can tell me anything, babe, you know that, but, yeah, this...”

“A daughter, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“I want a daughter, too. I thought having raised all your sisters, you’d’a wanted a son.”

The boy is running back to his father now, and he has a finger in the air trailing behind him, pointing up in the tree. He’s crying, tugging on his string, and his father kneels in front of him, patting his back.

“I wouldn’t mind a son. But I’d like another little lady in my life.”

“Couldn’t agree with you more,” Liam lays a kiss on the side of his nose, “speaking of big things happening in the future... our five year is coming up.”

Five years, and Louis draws back to “I do,” and then beyond that. He goes back to flattened bicycles and train rides, and when Liam’s trousers were frayed, and his nose was freckled under the Milanese sun.

Before Liam, he hated Italy. He hated going to Milan at least twice a year. He hated how stupidly colorful and ornate the streets were in Rome, and the fresh chopped basil in Florence. He hated how every conversation could be heard from three blocks away. He hated the wild pastures, and swore by a Bordeaux over any Barolo offered to him. Before Liam, France was the ideal. Before Liam, everything about Italy was like oil on water. 

And when he met Liam, he refused to believe the coffee in Turin was better than in Paris.

When he met Liam, he didn’t think he’d ever run into the gawky student from Cambridge again. He didn’t think they’d end up in Milan together, and clink flutes in Paris, that they’d figure something was fated by London. It was a slow burn. Maybe it was love at first sight, but it’s hard to feel that new passion when you’re sheathed in ash. That first time they met, he could feel the weight of the watch on his wrist dragging along each passing surface. But now, the rings on their fingers held them together. Italy brought them together.

“I-- I think we sh-should go to Venice,” Louis stutters.

Liam turns to look up at him. He pinches his brows, smacks at his right ear, “Did I hear you correctly?”

“Yes.”

“Back to Italy?”

“No, Venice, California. Yes, Italy, you tit.”

And Liam rubs his ears one more time, maybe blinks a few more-- because he can hardly believe it. Though Italy brought them together, Louis was very adamant about only returning for business. They’d taken holidays around the world: from honeymooning in Tahiti to skiing in Aspen. Liam had gone back to Italy of his own accord to visit old friends and keep up his tongue a few times after they were married. 

As much as Liam loves Italy, he couldn’t sip his morning caffè lungo’s without laughing at the thought of Louis struggling over the pronunciation to order his own Bicerìn at the coffee bar. After taking those few short trips to Turin, he swore he could never go back without Louis.

“You really want to go back to Italy? With me?”

“And only you.”

“It’s... it’s been a long time since I’ve been there. I’ve probably forgotten all I know--”

“Don’t worry, _signore_ ,” Louis rubs his cheek against the soft curl of Liam’s hair. “It will come back to you.”

 

______________________________________________________

 

As soon as they slip through the front door, Louis takes out the blue and gold speckled Murano glass vase for the slowly wilting arrangement. He puts the vase on the kitchen counter, trims the stems of the bouquets, and nestles them into the water. Liam adjusts some of the yellow and orange gerber daisies before Louis picks up the vase and walks it to their bedroom with Liam trailing behind him.

“I’m absolutely knackered,” Liam pulls off his white trainers without bothering to unlace them, and plops down onto the bed.

“Oh, but your majesty-- aren’t you forgetting about the offer you made me earlier today?”

Liam splays out on the bed, resting his hands beneath his head, and pretends to recall their exchange.

“Hmm,” he starts, then draws a finger to point out his thought, “you mean the offer to suck your cock?”

“Yes, that offer.”

“Well, I said I would, but did I say when?”

Louis takes his watch off to put it on top of the table, then stomps over to the bed and jumps onto Liam’s chest, laying down light slaps across his face, “You complete bastard! Some king you are!”

Liam laughs with every blow across his cheeks, then quietly wraps his legs around Louis’ hips to roll them onto the other side of the bed. Liam’s on top of Louis now, hands curled around his wrists to keep him from slapping his face again. The laughter dies, and Liam leans down to brush a kiss over a smile.

“Now,” Liam sits up taller, still pinning Louis to the duvet, “I suppose I can honor our exchange tonight. How do you want me?”

Liam circles his hips painfully slow with his lip between his teeth, staring straight into Louis’ eyes as he feels a wave of pleasure coil deep in his gut. Louis breaks the gaze to close his eyes and whimper something indistinguishable. Liam tightens his hold on Louis’ wrists as he puts more pressure on their swelling cocks, drawing out long sighs from their lips.

“I’m not picky,” Louis chatters, rolling into his touch, “your majesty.”

Liam sits up again, drawing Louis’ eyes back open so he can watch him peel off his shirt. He keeps working the friction in their jeans, wringing out soft coos, and Liam can’t help but snag his fingers beneath the hem of Louis’ shirt to slide them up the plane of his stomach. Liam’s breath hitches when he grinds a little to the right, and watches Louis’ body stutter as he lashes out a tense, hollow moan.

“Stop,” Louis whines, trying to push Liam’s hips away from him, “Jesus-- I said I wanted you to suck me off, not make me come in my pants.”

“I’m only warming you up.”

“Have you quite finished?” he squeaks as Liam presses down once more to tease him. Liam laughs as he shuffles away from a shallow-breathed Louis, taking in the rare moment of satisfaction, as Louis is usually the captain of the ship.

Louis has always been in control, or at least he makes it seem that way. The illusion of Louis having the upper hand is comforting for Liam. It’s what holds their marriage together. What they have is balance, yes, most definitely balance-- but when anything can or does go wrong, Louis is always there to hold them up. Liam could walk through fires by Louis’ side and trust him they’d come out unscathed.

“Get your kit off for your king,” Liam folds his arms across his chest, watching Louis shuck off his shirt over head, toss it across the room, then recollect himself to slide the denim clung to his thighs. He teases Liam, arching back into the pillows to lift his hips and relieve himself from his cotton briefs. Liam’s eyes follow Louis’ hands, delicate fingers pressing into the strained muscles of his thighs.

Louis sits up to lean on an elbow and reaches down to stroke himself, “Have at it, your majesty.”

Liam drops between his legs, sucking a trail of love-bites from Louis’ knee up his thigh. He puts his hands on Louis’ knees, spreads them further apart, and nibbles on the soft skin. Liam wishes he hadn’t listened to Louis this morning and shaved his face anyway, but regardless he brushes his cheek along the fine hairs on Louis’ inner thigh. Louis laughs and mumbles something about sandpaper, but is quickly cut off by his own moan.

Louis tries to keep himself steady, sucking in deep breaths with each stroke he makes over his cock, but his knees give out and slide down the bed when he feels a warm tongue over his balls.

“Jesus Christ, I wasn’t expecting--”

“Well I can’t exactly get my mouth on you when you keep wanking yourself.” 

Liam does it again, this time following his lick with a sloppy kiss, catching Louis so completely off guard that he squeezes down on the base of his cock and lifts his hips to pull away. Liam pinches the right cheek of his ass, causing him to draw his knees back up from the duvet and thrust higher into the air.

“Stop touching yourself,” Liam growls, “Now settle down, or I’ll pinch you again.” He pulls Louis’ hand away from his cock, and leans down to close his lips around it. Louis lets out a noise, somewhere between a sob and sigh of relief. Liam tongues at the head before dragging his mouth down the rest of the length, swollen red with pre-cum and girthy between his fingers. He twists his hand at the base and hollows his cheeks on the upstroke. After finding a steady rhythm, he picks up the pace, taking Louis in deeper, his jaw hinging wider with each drop. 

Liam pulls off his cock gasping for air and rests his spinning head against Louis’ thigh. Louis draws his thumb across Liam’s spit-slicked lips, “filthy,” he whispers, and Liam slows his rhythm gliding up and down Louis cock to a complete stop. He takes his hand off Louis’ dick and it falls back onto Louis’ stomach. He starts lashing long, slow licks at the veins mapped out on the underside of Louis’ cock.

“Mmm,” Liam hums, taking it back into his mouth, sucking out moans of approval. Louis has his hands gripping onto the crown of Liam’s hair, gently pushing him further down his cock. Liam takes one of the hands from his head to lace their fingers together and rest them on the crook in Louis’ hip. He relaxes his throat, takes him in deeper, then looks up at Louis through wet lashes.

Louis gasps, “Oh, fuck _me,_ you’re a fucking lunatic-- I--” tightening his grip on the back of Liam’s hair and squeezing their hands on his hip. He curls his toes into the bed, planting the heels of his feet to stop himself from fucking into Liam’s mouth-- but he keeps going, down, down, down, and Louis is trying his best to not close his eyes. The sight of Liam’s candy lips wrapped around his cock, which has magnificently disappeared into that tight little throat of his, has got his head spinning. 

“Li,” his voice shakes. He tries to pull Liam off, but Liam blinks away the tears gathering in his eyes once-- twice-- and lifts a finger in front of Louis’ face: _No, no, no, _it wavers, then he feels each harsh puff of air from Liam’s nose sweep across his navel, and he shivers, digging his nails deeper into Liam’s scalp. Liam hums with confidence, ignoring the fact he’s beyond having a clear vision of Louis silently cursing into the ceiling.__

__Louis’ breaths deepen, gone erratic, and he can’t look at Liam-- he can’t focus on anything else other than the hot coils burning low inside him with each swallow around the head of his cock-- and it feels like all his senses are crushing into his core._ _

__“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come-- Oh, my Lord, you’re so fucking good--”_ _

__Liam quickly pulls off and squeezes at the base of his cock. Louis’ eyes fly open, furious at the sudden denial._ _

__“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing? I need t--”_ _

__“Who are you calling ‘lord?’” Liam rasps, then unwraps his fingers from Louis’ to rub at his throat, “I am not a lord.”_ _

__“Jesus, Li, are you serious right now?”_ _

__“I am your king!”_ _

__“Ugh!” Louis falls back into the pillows, wiping the sheen of sweat from his forehead. He lets out a growl and pushes his hips in the air, trying to see if Liam will loosen his hold so Louis can return to his orgasm._ _

__“You do not address your king as a lord--”_ _

__“Your _MAJESTY_ ,” Louis shouts, crying into his shoulder, twisting left and right for any tension, any relief, “I swear to god, Li, you better finish me off in a second or I’ll bite your fucking dick off.”_ _

__Liam ducks back down, swallowing his cock in a seemingly fluid motion, and fights back a gag before working back up, then down his shaft relentlessly, following the steady squeeze of his hand stroking in time. Louis relives that burning sensation, bites his tongue to stifle a moan before spilling into Liam’s mouth. He pulls off, lips swollen, breathless with furrowed brows, focusing on pulling out the last of Louis’ orgasm. He laps up what’s left of Louis’ come with the tip of his tongue, then swallows._ _

__“When did you learn how to do that, and why have you been holding out on me?” Louis pants between regaining the energy Liam literally sucked out of him._ _

__Liam shrugs, smiles, and takes Louis’ hand to rub at his raw throat. He crawls up, pressing sweet kisses up his chest and into his neck, and hums into the soft swipes over his cheek from the pad of Louis’ thumb. He whispers what sounds like, “beautiful,” then he’s nuzzling his nose into the sweat-matted hair line by Louis’ ear._ _

__“Well,” Louis starts, “I must admit, I never knew you had it in you-- or, should I say, you could have it _all in you. _”___ _

____He quickly plants a sloppy, wet kiss on his ear before Liam gets up and shove-rolls him over to the other side of the bed, “You arsehole!”_ _ _ _

____“You wish you could,” he leans onto his forearms and sticks his ass up, knees digging into the bed sheets. He’s taunting Liam, staring back into his eyes whilst chewing on his lips._ _ _ _

____“I have, and I will.”_ _ _ _

____“No, darling, I’m absolutely spent-- can’t we just go to sleep now?”_ _ _ _

____Liam growls and dramatically falls backwards into the bed sheets, “you’re awful, you know?”_ _ _ _

____“I know, I’d want to fuck me, too,” Louis plants his knees further apart._ _ _ _

____Liam draws out a long sigh as he slides his fingers around his cock. The first couple strokes catch with a dry drag, but he spreads his pre-come onto the palm of his hand and looks back up to find Louis sucking two fingers into his mouth. Liam squeezes his cock on the twist up for a second, because there: he’s watching Louis’ cheeks hollowed around his fingers, his eyes staring straight into Liam’s, then Louis begins to slowly rock his ass back up into nothing._ _ _ _

____“Jesus, Lou,” he speeds up his strokes._ _ _ _

____Louis whines and sticks his fingers deeper into his mouth, then pulls them out with a string of spit that trails down his chin, “Would you fuck me?”_ _ _ _

____Liam drags a hand over his face to shield the look of desperation painting its way onto Louis’ face. He can only do so much with one hand over his eyes and one on his cock, can’t stop him from hearing Louis taunt him with sharp breaths that fade into weak moans._ _ _ _

____“Yeah,” Louis breaths, “of course you’d fuck me. Tell me, baby: how would you take me? You like me on my knees for you, don’t you? Mmm... des...perate for you... ‘nd your cock.”_ _ _ _

____Liam’s close-- so, so close-- and he is exhausted, and his throat is raw, tender with each swallow, but the day is over. He opens his eyes to look away from his husband who’s now pushing a finger into himself, and looks up at the clock on the wall. It reads twelve minutes after midnight._ _ _ _

____It’s Sunday._ _ _ _

____And Liam tries not to think about what Sunday means (it means Louis is going to spend half of it on the phone with Harry making last minute arrangements for his trip to Tokyo on Monday, and it means Saturday is over, and he’ll maybe see Louis for little more than a few hours in a single day next weekend before his own trip back to Dubai. And it also means he’s going to spend the week coming into their home alone, ordering chicken parmo’s and watching shit programmes. It means he won’t know which tie-knot would be best to use with his new shirt, and worry over the growing pile of mail he can’t sort through without going over it with Louis.)._ _ _ _

____He never questions how two people like them, who are so dedicated to their careers, who are both great at what they do, fell in love with each other, and haven’t seemed to fall out of it. Usually, love is lost over what they have. Liam swears it’s what brings them closer-- the way his stomach flutters at the thought of spending time with Louis, and they aren’t preoccupied with work, and they can enjoy a glass of wine in the garden, or they can take a drive out to Oxford. And he thinks about Louis when he isn’t told to think about anything else. He wonders whose hands Louis is shaking and whose careers he’s breaking into his field. He wonders if Louis’ still scaring away the interns when they bring him sugar for his tea (Liam told him to stop, “It isn’t worth getting upset over such trivial things.”_ _ _ _

____And Louis would remind him, “but being upset over trivial things is my _job_.”). He wonders how often Louis thinks about Italy, and if he really has learned to love it like Liam did before they met over seven years ago._ _ _ _

____And Liam swears their Saturday couldn’t be over that quickly (and swears because Louis begins kissing into the corner of his mouth, begging Liam to go _faster, faster _and to _come for me, babe, please-- I need you to come _), and he swears again when everything tenses up, and he swears, “Oh, fuck,” because all he can feel are his toes crossing over each other, and his chest burning with a harnessed breath, and Louis humming out a, “mmm, oh, _yes,_ ” onto his neck, and he’s coming._____ _ _ _

________“That’s it, darling,” Louis smiles into his ear, “you’re so good, babe. I love you,” and swipes his hand over the come now spread across Liam’s stomach. “Oh, look at you,” he wiggles his brows and licks away the come around his fingers, “someone’s been eating more fruit lately.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Liam cracks out a laugh and pulls Louis down into a kiss. He tastes himself, and it’s odd, but Louis is so gentle, and he doesn’t want to stop, because stopping means it’s no longer Saturday (though it’s actually Sunday), and he holds Louis closer, cradling his shaking hands around the back of Louis’ neck. He’s fighting the fatigue, ignoring the drying sweat sticking between their chests, because it’s still Saturday._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Not just any Saturday._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________But a Saturday in which, finally, the graces of the world outside this lamp-lit bedroom in North London have reminded two kindred spirits why each of their hearts beat for the other._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
